Linger
by princess estellise
Summary: Kanda sometimes thinks that, if love was something he could choose, he would have chosen to love her. KandaLenalee.


_linger_

**summary**: Kanda sometimes thinks that, if love was something he could choose, he would have chosen to love her. KandaLenalee.  
><strong>disclaimer<strong>: D. Gray-Man isn't mine.

**notes:** Short ficlet that popped into my head when I was listening to "Lightning the Sky" by Lights Out Dancing. That is such a KandaLenalee song it isn't even funny (although I must admit I ship KandaLenalee friendship more than I ship them romantically, although that may just be me). And it's a rare thing that I'll write for anything other than Vesperia so. Enjoy.

. .

"Are you trying to run away again?"

Kanda cringes, shoulders tensing. He refuses to look back at her, but he does stop for – for reasons he doesn't really – whatever. He stops because it's her. Because Lenalee has always had this hold on him and he can't seem to shake her.

"Kanda." Her voice is closer now, just behind him; she is close enough that he is sure he can reach back and touch her, take her by her delicate wrists and never let go. He hears her sigh, remnants of her breath tickling the hairs on the back of his neck. "Answer me," she says, softly. Her voice is like ripe rain on the pavement, like being thirteen years old again and meeting her for the first time, like humming birds in his blood vessels.

Kanda grimaces, turning to her with a scowl – that is his default expression. A constant defense mechanism. It wards off predators, people who want to (and have the ability to) break through the layers of his concrete walls.

Lenalee does not flinch, or recoil, or even return his frown. She actually looks worried, eyebrows creased over her wrinkled nose, eyes shining with determination. Kanda absentmindedly notices that they're reflecting the stars studded in the sky. He wonders if someone else's heart would ping in their chest if they noticed the same thing.

He relents with a sigh. "Why did you follow me?" He gives her a look of disparagement and her frown deepens.

"Because," she says, eyes up and then right, trying to think of an answer, trying to remember what caused her to pursue him in the first place. Kanda reads her actions carefully; she reconciles, "Because I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Kanda is in between being touched and wanting to tear his own hair out.

"You shouldn't worry about me," he grumbles, spinning on his heel and walking forward, continuing his journey.

"Kanda!" Lenalee calls; he hears her footsteps heavy on the pavement and then she's beside him, keeping up with his long strides with some difficulty. "I don't _want_ to worry about you," she tells him in a huff, aggravation apparent now that Kanda has given her the cold shoulder, "But you do things without thinking them all the way through and you have a _thick skull_ and – " she takes a deep breath, cutting herself off. Kanda raises a brow, lips set into a straight line. Lenalee sighs, "Where are you even _going_?"

"I would have been back by morning," Kanda tells her, intentionally ignoring her question. He can see his breath as he talks, indicating a swift drop in temperature as they get further and further away from their lodging for the night, "If someone wakes up they're going to be more concerned if you're gone," Kanda informs her monotonously.

"Oh, please." Lenalee clutches the neck of her jacket tighter around her collar, "Allen and Lavi are tuckered out. Besides, they know I can take care of myself."

"They may know that, but it does make them worry about you any less," Kanda growls under his breath, just loud enough for Lenalee to pick it up. She narrows her eyes at him but doesn't say anything, just offers him silent company as they walk.

"What are you thinking about?" She asks him quietly, still struggling a little to keep up with him; Kanda intentionally slows down, just slightly, to make it less of an effort for her, but doesn't answer. "This is why people don't know how to be friends with you, you know," Lenalee scolds after waiting a moment too long, "You won't share your feelings and you act like talking is a burden on you."

"It _is_ a burden," Kanda says, "I want to reflect on my own and that's impossible to do with _you_ around." Kanda says this in a way that is _almost_ good-natured. As good-natured as he can get, at least. Lenalee rolls her eyes, nudging his shoulder.

"You don't have to talk, I guess," Lenalee tells him softly, "But it might do you some good not to shut everyone out."

Kanda nods stiffly, mostly to appease her. It works to an extent; she stops talking about him and instead mutters something about how cold it's gotten now that it's nighttime, but also mentions that _the moon looks beautiful tonight_ and that she wishes it would snow. Kanda might have found this small talk annoying had it been anyone else, but Lenalee speaks and it pries ice off of his shoulders, turns his stomach into a hearth, his heart into flames.

"I don't have a destination in mind," Kanda tells her after awhile, pausing in the middle of the empty road and looking towards the town square a few kilometers away. He can see the water cascading from the top of the fountain and trickling into the spring below and despite himself he finds it calming. He imagines lily pads floating atop the water. "I just had to do something. Get out of the room."

Lenalee nods slowly, then carefully reaches for his hand and holds it in hers. It is more of a friendly gesture than a romantic one; their fingers are not laced and his palm hardly brushes against hers. They are linked together yet disjointed. It is as though Kanda is holding her at arms length as she tries to get closer.

Kanda sometimes thinks that, if love was something he could choose, he would have chosen to love her. He would have chosen to love her a thousand times over, given her butterfly kisses in the sunlight, brushed his fingertips through her hair, learned every part of her, opened himself up to her and let her see the real him, the scared little boy inside of the shell of a man.

He might have let her fix him, or repair him, or save him. Interlock their fingers.

"Do you want to be alone?" Lenalee asks, arms length away from him, hand still in his. She gives him a sidelong glance, worried, scared, wondering. He thinks, briefly, that he does love her. That he could love her forever.

"Go get some sleep," he tells her. She lingers for a moment, looks at him with big eyes and squeezes his hand before she lets go. She walks back alone, and Kanda is glad that she hadn't noticed he had intentionally avoided her question.

. .

_fin_.


End file.
